People kill themselves for many reasons. But, as you know, 'being happy' is not one of them. Yet, here I am, ready to commit suicide while being absolutely, delightfully, and unprecedented-ly happy! You would wonder why? It isn't that hard to understand.

I live a content life. Blissfully unaware of any want that might be lurking in the back of my mind. As far as I can see, I have a loving wife, a loyal dog, no mortgage to pay-off, a healthy body, a working mind, and enough money to abide by the 'an apple a day' adage. There's nothing more I want. Absolutely nothing.

I've asked myself over and over again if it is true. Can I really have no 'wants?'

It sounds impossible, especially when we all grow up hearing that 'wants never end.' I too had a long list of things I wanted in life. I wanted fast cars, a super model for wife, penthouse on a beach, and so much money that I did not have to work another day in my life. Fame, fortune and fine women – my dreams were not too different from any of those kids who live an under-privileged life, desperately trying to escape it day-dreaming. And like many of us, I too was ready to be a rock star if necessary to attain the things that I wanted.

All of that seems ages ago. When the truth is, till 10 or 15 years back I was still starry-eyed nurturing my rock star dreams. I really don't know why or am too lazy to think about it now, but over the last decade, those dreams have given way to an almost dreamless state of being. Funny thing is I don't seemed to have noticed their disappearance. They have slipped away into oblivion without a trace, without a sound, just like the more childish ones I had – the ones where I sincerely wanted to be Superman and save the world.

Strangely, even when I don't have any of those things that I wanted then, I am blissfully happy today. I like to believe that maybe, in an immature sort of way, all I really wanted was 'happiness' - that elusive thing we chase all day, every day. The Atlantis of our lives. Maybe I really did not want any of those things that seemed to represent it. But I was neither old enough nor wise enough to tell the difference.

So now that I am finally 'happy' and have no more 'wants,' I am left with no option but to drift. Without a purpose. Aimlessly. Many do that, albeit subconsciously or unconsciously I believe, and call it life, without knowing what a tragic waste of time that is. You cannot just live. You have to live 'for something.' Only then there is meaning to life. To not have anything to live for is to achieve a state of intellectual, emotional and spiritual emptiness. A living being cannot exist in a state of nothingness for long without being dead.

I guess when I was a child, I lived for my annual school holidays and our train trips to dad's village. In fact, I loved those journeys more than I loved my vacation. There is a magical quality to those odysseys that you cannot find in road trips or air travel. There is something extremely fairy tale-ish to me when a whole bunch of absolute strangers come together in time and space and become a big family, travel together for a while, sharing their world with each other before once again disappearing into their own separate spaces. Like a gypsy's caravan, it is a world richly filled with mystery and contemporary folklore. All you have to do is pay attention to the words being spoken.

On many such occasions, while leaning out of an open second-class compartment window, greedily taking in the world that hurried past me, I have seen a sight that for reasons I cannot articulate even now, used to make me feel extremely sad and alone.

Among bushes, along some abandoned railway line in some small village that no self-respecting train stopped, like a fallen from grace monument no longer cared for, I have seen derelict life forms that once proudly thundered across the nation every day carrying thousands of men and goods that enable life. I have always felt a stab of pain in my heart as I passed those abandoned trains.

The sight of those rotting iron behemoths have made me silently cry. In my minds eye, I would imagine them speeding along, glad to be alive, happy to perform the function they were made for, euphorically blowing their whistle into the dark of the night. As if in warning, 'Behold! Stand back! Make way for Life!' As a small kid, that thought made me smile. Secretly, I felt proud of their majesty and enormous power. I somehow felt safe in the knowledge of their strength.

Then I would open my eyes and see those very things that I loved and admired standing motionless, scarecrows of their once majestic self, being spat upon by passers-by. I would see those giants that once moved mountains stand helplessly as some street kids defecated on them laughing all the while, see them being eaten alive by rust and grime. I would watch their once proud, invincible bodies in various stages of decay, being used as a urinal by stray dogs.

Those giants in steel and iron will never move again. Never carry men. Never know the joy of performing their function. This is the last chapter of their life - a slow, undignified ebbing away of life in an unknown tomb, eaten away by indifference and time. Sometimes that image has brought a sadness in me that I believe one should feel only at the passing away of one's most beloved sibling. If you ask me, I can tell you with certainty now that I have known love in my life.

When I look back, I believe, their remains could hurt me so much because they represented what I see very commonly around me today - the man who has detached himself from the 'for' – the engine, the purpose of life. I didn't know it then.

The story of all men who are devoid of the 'for' in their life is the same. They are the men who cannot engage with life. Carrying a mind that sleeps forever, a heart that no longer feels, and a stagnant spirit, they exist in a numbness that's hard to define. The body may go on for sometime but eventually it will give in to abject despair and misery. It will have nothing to gain by living. Studies reveal that clinical depression is a growing phenomenon around the world. It isn't too difficult to see why.

Today, without a want, I see myself as one of those trains that will soon come to a grinding halt. To let that happen is a sin. It is disrespect for one's life. Only indifference can let a man sit and watch his own life being eaten away by decay. Watch it being spit, urinated and defecated upon. To see it exist without pride.

I am not saying that I'm happy and if I die tomorrow I will have no regrets. That is only a passive acceptance of an eventuality. It only implies that death no longer scares me. I am saying, “I am happy and I want to die now.” I am actively seeking death. Like one seeks an ice-cream or a new shirt. Not because I find it more appealing that life itself. No. I just find it the next logical step.

I am not happy to die. I am not sad either. There are no romantic illusions I carry about it. There is no Heaven or Hell. But since I want nothing more in life, since constructive engagement with life is no longer required, I am consciously and willingly deciding to end it. That is my last 'want,' if you will. I have lived for everything that I wanted. Never in the ignominy of having to ask, “What for?” And now I want to go away with the dignity and pride that such a knowledge provides me intact. It is my last act of self respect. The final salute to my life.

Is there anything I want to say before I die? Yes!

“I have enjoyed the ride every bit. And that's all that counts!”